Well Outside the Lines
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Fanfic of the glorious Outside the Lines by nanniships. What could have happened during the last chapter if Phyllis hadn't let go of Joe's hand.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is a fanfic of a fanfic- all credit to nanniships and the amazing ****_Outside the Lines_****. **

Somehow, their hands had not parted. Quite the opposite, their fingers hand wrapped together. She wasn't sure who had done it, but somehow they were like that. And neither one of them was speaking. Neither one of them was apparently breathing, even. Their breathlessness was mounting to an unbearable pitch, which, she realised, was building as he moved gently towards her. She also realised, a moment later, that he was moving towards her because she was tugging softly on his hand.

The look on his face was one of surprise, humility, a little confusion. But above all, she thought, delight, which he was entirely failing to suppress. She turned away from him, still holding his hand, allowing the smile to beam across her face only briefly and only when she was turned away from him, leading him towards the door and the narrow stairs of the cottage. She could feel the eagerness with which he followed her in the pace of his movements behind her, in the way his hand contracted in hers as she took him up the stairs.

Without saying a word, she naturally led him up to her room. He didn't question this, though his own room was just across the corridor, and the bed was a little bigger. He did not have the look of a man who was about to query the logistics.

She closed the bedroom door gently behind them, turning to face him. They were both still for a moment, watching each other. He was still unsure, she realised, he was still waiting for her. To lead him to her room wasn't enough to convince him. She smiled gently at him, hoping it would reassure him, closing the gap between their bodies and looping her arms gently around his neck. She kissed him on the mouth, this time, not the forehead. Her lips parted in a little smile against his as she heard the soft groan he gave, felt the touch of his hands on her hips. Gently, she allowed her tongue to touch against his lips, silently asking _do you believe I want you now?_

He groaned again, deeper this time, pulling her closer to him, lifting her a little.

But perhaps his surprise was understandable, she thought, even as she walked with him towards the bed. She had only just realised herself that she wanted him, and how much. Or had it only been tonight that she'd allowed herself to want him? She didn't know. But she did know that she had chosen to bring him here, and that she was glad about it.

They sat side by side on the bed, still kissing one another, her hands cupping his cheeks again, her thumbs gently stroking his face. His hand had raised and was tangling in her hair a little bit, but only very tenderly. She smiled again. She did not think she'd ever kissed a man who made love as carefully as Joseph Molesley did. Or kissed as carefully as he did, because, she reminded herself, even as his hand stroked the length of her thigh, they were not actually making love yet.

But the tenderness of it was palpable, and, she felt- she was certain as his other hand encircled her gently and drew a slow circle with his thumb at the base of her spine- this was the closest to a physical manifestation of love she had come. She thought about him calling this her home just moments ago, and kissed him a little bit harder.

When his mouth left hers, he was definitely breathless.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked her quietly.

"Honestly, no," she replied softly, a smile lifting her lips, "But I'm not backing out now. And I know I want this now," she told him.

He looked unsure, and she wondered whether or not it had been a good idea to tease him. She leant in and kissed him again.

"I want you," she told him softly, murmuring in his ear, "I want to find out what you've been dreaming about."

She could physically feel the heat from his cheeks flushing. His hands were resting on her hips again.

"Promise you'll stop me," he told her, "If I do anything you don't like?"

She nodded, smiling at him gently.

His hand pressed gently on her shoulder, pushing her carefully down. She reached her arms out to meet him as he leant gently over her to kiss her again. He undid the buttons down the front of her blouse. As he parted the fabric, she saw his eyes moving over her skin looking at her tattoos. She let him for a long moment, then she sat up a little, reaching for his shirt.

"You get to see mine, I get to see how yours is getting on," she told him.

He offered no disagreement, taking advantage of her movement to push her blouse off her shoulders. She let her fingers touch the exposed skin of his chest before her lips did, deliberately seeking out the flower blossoming there with both. He wriggled out of his shirt eagerly, making her smile against his skin. Her arms lopping over his back, she pulled him back down to her, their mouths meeting again as his fingers tangled in her hair, again. His lips roamed fretfully over her neck and her collarbone; he was almost feverish with excitement. She could tell, she could feel him pressing hard against her thigh, and she was enjoying it. Her hands moved down his back, squeezing his bottom a little bit, laughing softly as he gasped in surprise.

His kisses moved down to her breasts, and somewhere in her mind she decided that she wanted to come home to this every day. Her bra straps pushed off her shoulders, she arched her back to allow his fingers to work the clasp. When he took her bare breast into his mouth, her head rolled back and she moaned in pleasure.

"Are you alright?" he asked her quietly.

"Yes," she replied, "Will you keep doing that?"

She saw him smile, and he complied eagerly. His hand moved gradually down her side, moving in between their bodies, skirting the top of her jeans.

She was about to utter a protest at his hesitation when he pulled away from him a little and looked her in the eye and whispered; "You're incredible."

Their was disbelief in his soft whisper.

She could not bring herself to argue, she didn't even want to. She just looked back up at him and reminded him; "And I want you."

His hand fumbled a little bit undoing her jeans, but she liked it, his fingers pressed hard against her for a second. It was even better a moment later, though, when she felt his hands move lower, slip under the waistband of her knickers and dip between her folds. She gasped, wrapping her arms around him again and pulling him closer to her.

He stayed there for a moment, and then he was gently tugging at her jeans, trying to get her to take them off. She sighed at the loss of intimate contact, but knew it was in her interest to help him as quickly as she could. She stood up and practically kicked her trousers off.

Naked, she knelt back down before him on the bed. His eyes swept over her again before he took her softly in his arms again.

"You're so beautiful," he told her quietly.

Their mouths met again and they kissed slowly, deeply. And then her hands were working at his trousers as he had worked at hers. Swiftly, he helped her, and they were naked together. She smiled, tugging him to lie down beside, meeting his lips, rolling onto her back and pulling him with her. His hand was between her thighs again, touching her so tenderly. Her eyes fell shut. Her lips parted involuntarily as he slipped a finger inside her.

"I like that," she told him through her quiet erratic breathing.

"Good," he replied.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. He inhaled deeply.

"Will you be with me?" she asked him softly, her voice a little deeper, hoarse in her throat, "Will you make love?"

She opened her eyes to find him looking at her carefully.

"If it's what you want," he replied.

"It is," she assured him.

She moved, parting her legs, wrapping them around his waist. He thrust forwards and was inside her. She groaned softly, and her head fell back again.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, "Have I hurt you?"

"No, you haven't," she replied, burying her face softly in his neck, "This is lovely."

She guided his mouth back down to hers as he began to rock gently into her. She sighed again, rolling her hips slowly, getting used to this feeling again.

"It's alright," she told him softly, her hand in the middle of his back, "I won't break, Joe. It's alright. In fact, I'd like it if you went a little bit faster."

Resting his weight on his forearms, he thrust firmly into her.

"Yes," she sighed, "Like that. Again."

He did as she bid him.

She gave a guttural sigh.

"Yes," she murmured, "Yes, Joseph."

He showered kisses over her as he moved, adoring her with his mouth, slipping his hand between their bodies, seeking out her breast and then the sensitive nub of flesh between her legs. She groaned her appreciation, arching her back to press her body up against his.

"Joe-…" she was no longer at the stage of forming whole sentences. Their bodies were sticky with the sweat of moving together, "I'm going to-…"

"Yes," he told her breathlessly, increasing the pressure between her legs just slightly, "I want that."

She gave a cry, leaning up, clinging onto his body, pulling him down with her, and before he knew it he was coming too, spilling himself inside her, calling out to her too, telling her the things he'd said to her in his dreams.

They lay together, allowing their breathing to slow stroked his back gently, his hand holding her hair. Her legs were aching a little, she realised, and her lips felt swollen but she was happy about it.

Their eyes met. They were both quiet. Neither of them knew what to say. So she kissed him softly. She heard him exhale deeply and settle beside her. They would have to talk in the morning but now he gathered her in his arms, and she was glad of it.

**end.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm just teasing you a bit with this chapter, but also want to indicate my intention to go on with this story a little bit further. Also I think if I stay up much longer I will just crash out, and I have so much to do tomorrow. Hope you enjoy it, and all credit to nanniships as usual. **

He knew for certain what it was that made him wait up for her again the next night, but he didn't know quite what it was that had inspired his boldness.

They had both had to be up quite early, they hadn't really had the chance to talk yet.

But he met her as she was half way into the room and met her eyes, asking for permission. He slipped his hand into hers and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. She gave a quiet sigh, returning his kiss, her head moving after a moment as if to recline backward. He let it; pressing his lips to the crook of her throat as simply, as gently as he had kissed her mouth. He could feel the beat of her pulse hammering in her throat and he had to pull away before it overwhelmed him.

She straightened her neck to look at him.

"I tried to get back home quickly," she told him with a little smile.

"The wait felt twice as long," he replied truthfully.

The corners of her mouth perked up a little bit further.

"Should we go upstairs?" she asked him softly.

"If you want to," he replied.

She raised her eyebrows a little.

"Do _you _want to?" she asked him.

"Yes," he replied, plainly, bluntly, the strain telling in his voice.

A small smirk stretched across her lips and she took his hand again. He brushed his thumb against her knuckles thoughtfully, as if to ask her a question and a moment later he did:

"Do you think we should talk about-… us?" he asked her.

She bit her lip a little bit.

"Yes," she answered honestly, "But maybe not straight away."

He gave her a look that was torn between questioning and amusement, unsure whether or not she was joking. She looked at him levelly.

"I don't think we need to talk straight away," she told him again, "There are other ways to explore-…_this _before we talk about it. And I don't know about you, but those ways feel very appealing to me just at the moment."

He could not speak.

A smile spread across her face again. She was squeezing his hand reassuringly.

"You know, the first time can be a bit different," she told him in soft voice, very little above a murmur, "There's always the chance that you're going to be too nervous to do anything right. And it can be really crap, compared to the next time."

He smiled uncertainly, noticing that she was closer to him, wondering if she was trying to give him a not so subtle hint.

"Which gives me high hope for you now, Joe Molesley," she continued, "If that was your first shot."

In his relief, he grinned from ear to ear like an absolute idiot, and pulled her close to him and kissed her hard. She met him with enthusiasm, tugging on the front of his shirt.

"Upstairs?" she asked him between kisses.

He nodded hastily, taking her by the hand again.

He led her to his room this time. His fingers were in her hair and her hands were working at his clothes, pulling them in all directions trying to get them off. She had his shirt of by the time they had tumbled onto the bed.

He had thought about her all day, playing the scenes of them together last night over and over and over in his head. It had felt indulgent, it had felt almost wrong but whatever he tried he couldn't push the images out of his head. He didn't want to not think about it- it had been the best thing to happen in his life-… A lump rose in his throat.

Her hand raised and cupped his cheek.

"What's wrong?" she asked him quietly, "Joseph?"

"Nothing," he replied, bowing his head to kiss her again.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him gently, before she would let him.

Without thing about it, his hands moved so he could her a little closer to his body.

"How I've been thinking about you all day," he replied, "Remembering what it was like."

Both her hands cupped his face, leaning up, almost enough to kiss him.

"What was it like?" she asked in a whisper.

"So good," he replied, his voice hoarse with longing, "So good, Phyllis."

She brushed her lips slowly against his, opening her mouth, kissing him deeply. Every inch of him ached for her.

"I wanted you so much," he told her as they pulled apart.

He slipped his hand under the neck of her blouse, touching her collarbone tenderly. Her eyes flitted up at him, taking in his expression.

There was half a smile on his face.

"Only past tense?" she questioned.

"No," he replied, "Never."

**Please let me know what you think. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Another little chapter. **

They did come to talk; slowly, little by little.

She told him about being married to Peter. Gradually, she told him all of it, everything, made confessions and disclosed little snatches at the most unexpected moments.

They talked; but for a long time he only listened. And that, they both felt, was as it should be. There were more things for her to say than there were for him, and he swallowed up every word, waiting patiently for more. He wanted her to listen, though the thought of her reliving her pain only for him pained him. And when she had finished talking, he tried to take that pain away.

But he did come to speak too.

She was on his bed when he told her. She was lying on her back, her knees curled up to her chest but parted. He knelt on the floor beside the bed, between her knees. They were both naked. He lifted his head to look at the body he had just been kissing.

"You know I'm in love with you, Phyllis."

Her arm had been bent at the elbow, her hand resting on her face, half-covering her eyes. But she lifted her hand, looked up at him.

"Yes, I do know," she replied, her voice a little uneven, a little breathless.

His hand rested tenderly on her knee.

"I'm in love with you too," she told him.

The smile on his face was a sight to behold. It made her smile too. She sat up, titling her legs down over the edge of the bed and pulling him into her arms, embracing him tightly. He kissed her mouth and she tasted herself on him.

"You're so wonderful," he told her between kisses, "You're so beautiful. You're incredible."

He could feel her mouth softly smiling against his. Her arms draped lazily over his shoulders.

"I love you," she told him, "I love you like I never thought I'd love anyone."

He smiled as strongly as he could.

"Lie back down," he told her, his voice trembling a little, giving her a soft nudge.

She grinned as she did what he asked her, leaving her legs draped over the edge of the bed him kneeling between them.

He pressed his mouth against her again, opening her folds up, tracing the path he had done moments ago. His hands held her hips gently, feeling her sweat beneath his fingertips, feeling the way she angled her pelvis up towards him, loving that he was bringing her to this. He stroked her harder than before, feeling her wet against his tongue, feeling her warmth fill his mouth. The noises she was making were music to his ears, spurring him on. Her thighs lifted up again, clamping around his ears.

And then she let out a cry, "God, I love you, Joe!"

Her back arched off the bed and she was shaking. Christ, she was the most gorgeous thing in the world.

As she rocked her climax out, he climbed up onto his bed, pulling her into his arms, cradling her, kissing her forehead.

When she calmed, she cupped his face softly.

"That was fantastic," she told him, her voice a little hoarse from crying out.

"It always is with you," he told her quietly in reply.

She laughed softly. But then she looked at him very seriously.

"Sometimes I can't believe we're together like this," she told him quietly, "I can't believe you-…"

"I love you," he finished for her when she trailed off, unable to say it, "I love you, Phyllis Baxter."

She wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him close to her and kissing him.

"I can't remember feeling this good," she told him softly, leaning her head down, pressing her forehead against his shoulder.

**Please review if you have the time.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 2**

**Ok, so this arose out of the fact that I've had an unhealthy obsession with the last chapter of Outside the Lines by nanniships for as long as I care to think, so this is me writing another spinoff from that story; just continuing a little bit further into the first night Joe and Phyllis have together. **

He woke up with his face pressed against the back of her neck. Her hair was splayed out over the pillow and all over him too. She seemed to be sleeping very soundly, she hardly stirred as he pressed a kiss into the bone at the base of her neck.

As he became more, the feeling of disbelief slowly washed over him again. He couldn't believe that they'd made love; he could remember it vividly, but the rational, realistic part of his brain had difficulty accepting as much. His body was telling him that she was physically here beside him but his mind couldn't comprehend it. He moved his hand gently, resting it deep in the curve of her hip. A the memory of her beautiful decorated skin flickered through his mind, and he had the urge to see her again, an urge that he was not quite strong enough to resist.

Carefully, he lifted up the duvet, rolling it downward as softly as he could, exposing her arm first and then her stomach, her hip. She shivered a little bit in the cold, rolling backwards into the space behind her that he'd vacated. As she stirred awake, he watched the gentle sweep of her body in the dark, the natural lines of her body meeting the ones that had been inked on later.

She blinked slowly, turning her head towards him sleepily.

"Hello," she murmured, reaching for him quietly, touching him softly, pulling him towards her, "It got cold."

"Sorry," he replied, returning her kiss, "I wanted to look at you again."

She smiled against his lips.

"Well, now that you've woken me up, you might as well," she replied gently, pushing the blanket down towards her legs, stretching as she did so, giving him a look at the long, slender arch of her back.

She lay back down on her back, briefly drawing her arms close to her body, shivering in the chill before releasing her arms and allowing them to stretch out. She reclined before him and allowed his eyes to sweep over her, watching him as he watched her.

He drank in the sight of her, finally basking in the snatches of the images which had haunted him for all this time, the hummingbird fluttering over her breast, the beautiful pattern on her stomach, and the newfound one, the garter tracing tantalisingly over the curve of her thigh.

She watched him follow the line of it until it was out of sight.

"Do you want me to turn over?" she murmured, a look a amusement on her face.

"If you want," he told her softly, when he tried to speak he found his voice was a little hoarse.

There was a languid smile spreading across her face now, almost stretching into a grin. She sat up, reaching her hand out for him, beckoning him very simply back towards her.

"Maybe we can save that for later," she murmured to him, her hand gently trailing around the base of his neck as she pulled him back to her and kissed him.

His hand was on her thigh. Without thinking about it, he was tracing the garter tattoo on her legs. He seemed to be absolutely fascinated by it-….

She leant her mouth gently away from his, looking down to where he was touching her skin, encouraging him to follow her gaze. When he did, his eyes widened just a touch and she smiled again.

"You seem to quite like that one?" she murmured to him, unnecessarily.

"God, Phyllis," he murmured, tracing it more firmly, almost reverently, "You have no idea."

She watched his face closely. She thought she had some idea but she wasn't going to say that. Instead she kept watching him as he lowered his mouth to her thigh and resumed the pattern he'd been kissing before. She sighed quietly, leaning back on her hands, watching him intently. He seemed to want to get close enough to prise the garter up from her skin, he was gentle but so intent.

"Joe," she murmured, a wry little laugh somewhere in her voice, "It doesn't come off."

He raised his head just a little.

"I know," he replied, "I like that it's always there. It just so," he punctuated every word with a kiss, "Bloody, sexy. It's the most erotic thing-….I've ever seen."

At this rate she was going to have love bites all over thighs, and she didn't frankly give a shit. She hummed her contentment, as his mouth roamed over her skin.

"Thank you," she murmured, "That's nice of you to say."

His hand, while caressing the tattoo where it ran to the inside of her thigh, was gently levering her legs a little further open.

"God, Joe," she murmured as his lips trailed further up her thigh, "That's so nice. Shit, Joe!" she gave almost a quiet yelp as his lips touched her between her thighs.

Her head fell back as he continued to kiss her. He parted her carefully with his tongue, his hands cradling her thighs as he lay between them. She leant right back, letting her hips roll up for him and he gave all the more for it.

"God," she murmured, the words slipping from her lips, past the part of her mind that was still capable of thought, "I love you."

And before she knew it, she was spiralling over the edge, crying out god only knew what as she gave herself up, her body rocking, shaking against his. She could feel him holding her and she jutted against his thigh, and he stroked her arms gently soothing her through it.

"Fuck, Joe," she murmured softly as soon as she was able, "Find the bloody condoms."

**Please review if you have the time. **


	5. Chapter 5

**I am still continuing with ****_The Definition of Love _****but this has been running round my head for the last few days. Of course, it's still ****_Outside the Lines_**** compliant, and owes everything to nanniships. Hope you like it. ******

"Phyllis. Sweetheart?"

She lifted her head up from where she had been resting it on his back at the sound of her name.

"Mmhm?" she asked quietly, a smile stretching across her lips as she looked him, lying on his front, his head turned to the side so she could see half of his face, "What is it?"

"Will you do me another tattoo?"

Of all of the questions, all of the strange little midnight wonderings, she hadn't been expecting that one. Biting her lip a little, thoughtfully, she traced the line of her finger gently a little way down his spine and round the line of his shoulder blade.

"Where?" she asked him thoughtfully, examining his back closely.

"I don't know," he replied, "Where ever-…"

"I've already done you one in the place that hurts the least," she reminded him softly.

"Oh yeah," he pretended to remember, "Damn."

She sniffed a small laugh. Leaning up on her hand, she gently stroked her palm down the middle of his back.

"We can work on where," she told him, "Do you know what you want?"

"Erm, yeah, I do," he half sat up for a second, reaching for a piece of paper folded up inside his notebook on the bedside table, "This."

She took the paper from him and unfolded it. There was nothing on it, except for a few characters in a language she didn't recognise.

"What language is this?" she asked him, trying to work out what this was all about, a frown creasing along her brow a little bit, "Is it Russian?"

"No, but nearly. Some of the characters are the same. It's Greek," he told her, "Ancient, to be exact."

"What does it mean?" she asked softly, stroking hr thumb over the crease in the paper. She was kneeling by his side now, one knee tucked up to her chest, not cold even though she was wearing as little as he was.

"It's actually the word for foliage."

She gave a little hoot of laughter. Sometimes this man got stranger and stranger.

"Why on earth do you want that?" she asked him, "That's far-fetched even for a florist."

"Do you want to know how it's pronounced?" he asked her softly.

"Go on," she asked him, "How is it?"

"Phyllis."

It took her half a second to realise what he meant, and another half second to process it. The paper drooped a little in her hand as her grip loosened with surprise.

"Joe-…" she murmured in shock. She could tell her voice sounded different. She cleared her throat a little. "You know that's tattoo 101, don't you?" she asked him, attempting, almost, to sound stern, "Don't get someone's name unless you fathered or birthed them."

He gave an amused sniff. He craned his neck a little to look at her.

"But-… apart from that-…" he asked her, "Would you do that for me? You don't mind?"

"Shit, Joe, how could I mind?" somehow there were tears welling in her eyes and she had to wipe them away, "It's so bloody lovely. I mean, it may technically make you be classed as mad but-…"

"Listen," he said gently, sitting up and turning around to look at her, "If wanting your name permanently written on me in a language only we can understand makes me an idiot, then I'll confess gladly to being one. Oh, sweetheart-…" he reached out, looking slightly bewildered, pulling her into his arms as she gave an overwhelmed little sob, "Don't cry. It's alright."

She ended up with the piece of paper in her face as she covered her eyes with her hands and he held her against him, stroking her back gently. She got tears all over it.

She looked up at him apologetically.

"You'll have to write it out for me again," she told him, holding out the smudged letters, "I don't want to get it wrong."

"I think I'll managed that," he told her softly, kissing her temple, "Are you alright?" he asked her quietly.

"Yes," she murmured, "God, yes of course I am. I don't know why I cried, I have no idea."

"It's alright," he told her, resting his hands on her shoulders, "As long as you're alright."

"Yes," she told him, more firmly this time, "Yes, I am."

"Good," he replied, leaning forward, kissing her mouth tenderly, "Good."

Her arms draped over his shoulders, pulling his body closer to his as she kissed him back.

"That's such a lovely thing to want, Joe," she told him softly after a moment.

"I love you," he murmured to her in reply.

She smiled gently.

"I love you too," she told him as her hand stroked slowly down his chest, pushing him back onto the bed.

**Please review if you have the time.**


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